


It takes two junkers

by CryptidBae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), overwatch
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avoidance, Gen, Jamison Fawkes - Freeform, Junkrat has a child, Junkrat is doing his best to raise that child, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes Has ADHD, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes Has Anxiety, M/M, Mako Rutledge -freeform, Overwatch agents - Freeform, Partners to friends to lovers, Roadhog has PTSD, Roadhog will be seen suffering from symptoms, Roadhog's backstory, Such as dissociative amnesia, an old bitch, angry outbursts, hipervigilance, kiddo is fine, mako rutledge - Freeform, roadrat - Freeform, she's a bitch, surprisingly, the kid doesn't, the queen of Junkertown - Freeform, they both have a LOT of issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 16:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15319854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptidBae/pseuds/CryptidBae
Summary: It tales a village to raise a child. That's how the saying goes, but Junkrat has been doing a damn good job on his own if he says so himself. That doesn't mean he's going to say no to letting his bodyguard help.After all, a family can be a hog with lots of issues, a rat that is straight up insane, and the rat's adopted, conventionally ugly, yet beloved child.





	1. At the beginning, there was a junker and an ugly baby

“Fuck mate, you're disgusting. You're gonna make me throw up!”

Junkrat couldn't believe it. The whole situation was surreal. It was his twentieth birthday and Jamison had just gone out to visit a brothel, maybe even get lucky with some girl that found him not as disgusting as everyone else did. He hadn't left his hideout to end up running down the street with a baby in his arms. If someone had told Junkrat he'd end up in this kind of situation, he would have laughed at their faces and later would have blown the hell out of them for having the audacity to spread such lies. He was Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes: bomber, thief, bounty hunter, anarchist; he was a lot of things, but not someone you would leave a child with, never someone you would leave a child with, not even on his best days. Junkrat had no family, no friends. The only people that had ever worried about him were people he owed shit to, and after losing his arm Jamison understood owing people shit wasn't good, so it had been a while since he owed someone anything.

Besides, it was The Outback. Most children didn't last long unless their parents worked their asses to get them to survive or someone who gathered kids and made them scavenge for them decided they were worth anything, which happened more than the first option. The Outback wasn't a place for kids, because almost no one cared about them. Junkrat didn't even like kids, he could say that out loud without feeling guilty for it. That's what made it so hard to understand why that day had been any different.

After arriving at Novac, the most frivolous settlement in The Outback, Jamison had been kicked out of the brothel he'd managed to sneak into. His intentions weren't bad, he swore it. Jamison only wanted to see why so many people went into those places. But apparently his appearance didn't help the girls feel in the mood to work, they even called Jamison a pervert, and only because he had stared at someone's breasts and then refused to pay five tokens to touch one. Jamison could buy food with five tokens, he wasn't going to waste them to touch tits, no thanks, he could touch his own for free.

“Who needs those cunts?!” Junkrat spat on the now closed door of the brothel.

He was walking down an empty street, watching the sun hide behind the scrap-made buildings while rubbing some sand off his eye when a deafening cry broke- No, _destroyed_ the silence. Junkrat was curious, he'd always been. That curiosity usually got him in trouble, and this time wasn't the exception.

Following the deafening cry to the alley between the brothel and the building beside it, Jamison made sure there was a way out just in case, the last thing he wanted was some blokes stealing the tokens it had taken him an arm and a leg —literally— to earn.

“If there's anyone tryin’ to be brave in here, imma stuff ya with bombs and blow your ass to the next continent!”

With his grenade launcher ready to do what he'd just yelled loud enough to be heard over the sexy music that came from inside the brothel, Jamison ventured further into the alley and bent over a trash container to see what was inside only to gasp and give multiple steps back.

He stopped moving away when his back hit a wall. Junkrat couldn't believe it. It had to be a bad joke, maybe an old broken toy that had gone off after a rat stepped on it or something. With a considerable amount of hesitation, Jamison approached again and took a peek into the container.

Wrapped on what looked like a dirty T-shirt for someone with big breasts and surrounded by condoms from the brothel —How fucking ironic— was one of the only things Junkrat had never seen: a baby, and a definitely living one at that because it sure had some powerful lungs to screech like that.

What was a baby doing there? Who had given birth into an alley? And who had waited for it to be born to kill it? Because yes, leaving a baby in a trash can in Novac was a death sentence. Everyone was there for a quick fuck or two, not to adopt children.

Acting out of impulse, Junkrat let go of his grenade launcher, letting it hang from the strap around his shoulder, and picked the baby up, making an exaggeratedly disgusted face when he felt it was sticky. He held it at eye level, examining the little thing. It was a pink, sticky baby with a crooked nose and blood all over it.

“Hooley Dooley, aren't ya a beaut?” Jamison said sarcastically. “You look like a pig.”

Jamison watched the baby start sucking on its little fist. Once it stopped crying, Jamison was able to hear something approaching, it sounded like nails scratching the ground, and frowned as he looked up to see the bright, hungry eyes of dingos approaching.

“Stupid mutts,” Junkrat growled, holding the baby between his chest and his stump so he could grab a can and throw it at the dingos, hitting one of them. “Get outta here, bags of fleas, or I'm gonna cook ya all!”

He threw another piece of trash at the dingos before he took off running.

That's how Jamison ended up with a baby that wasn't his. Baby that, after Junkrat didn't let it nurse from his chest, started crying again.

“Shit shit shit. Shut your mouth!” He yelled at the baby. But that didn't help, in fact, it made the baby start crying even louder. “Fucking cunt. You squeal like a pig!”

Accommodating the baby and holding it with his good arm, its head resting against his bicep, Junkrat walked down the street feeling like he would start crying too. What was he supposed to do? It was too late, only drunks and prostitutes were around. Jamison walked past all of them, ignoring whoever made a comment about his appearance for once in his life, a wide grin on his face because he knew exactly where he could get help.

Since his good arm was busy holding the ankle biter, Junkrat kicked the hostel’s door open.

“Marcie!” Jamison screeched as he walked in. The relieved smile only widening when he spotted the woman behind the bar, not caring about the fact that the baby's cries were annoying her customers. “There you are! I need your help!”

The short, yet muscly woman crossed her arms and looked down at the screeching bulge Junkrat was carrying.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“It's a baby!” Jamison moved closer and showed her the baby. “Though now under some light, it could also be a pig. It won't stop squealin’ and screechin’, it's too pink, its nose is weird and I found it in the trash,” Junkrat then gasped, looking horrified. “Do you think it's a mutant?!”

Marcie rolled her eyes so hard they went white for a moment. Jamie had that effect on people. “Stop being stupid for once in your life and make it shut up!”

“It doesn't want to, that's why I came here!”

“Then take it to your room and get it to shut up somehow!”

Right, Marcie was letting Junkrat stay until the end of the week after the young man had bombed the guys who stole from her and got her cash back.

Instead of going to his room, Junkrat sat on a stool, leaving the baby on the bar. When it squirmed closer and tried to once again nurse from his flat chest, Jamison had an idea. “You had a baby not so long ago, right? There must still be milk on those huge tits!”

Marcie looked like she hoped Jamison was joking. But no, he was being as serious as a heart attack, and Marcie actually considered the situation before frowning at someone that complained about the crying and telling them to go fuck themselves if they had a problem with it.

“Show me the money first,” Marcie stated. “No one here eats for free.”

“It's milk from your tits, it's not food!” Junkrat couldn't believe she was actually trying to sell him titty milk.

“It is food for the brat,” She answered, eyebrows arching. “You want me to feed your baby? Six tokens.”

“Six tokens for titty milk?!” Junkrat was shocked. “I'll give you two.”

“Six.”

“Three.”

“Six.”

“Four, and I will never launch a grenade in here ever again!” Jamison spat on his hand and offered it to Marcie so they could close the deal. “Sounds good?”

Marcie didn't shake his hand. She picked the baby up and motioned for Junkrat to follow her to the pantry. Junkrat grinned and obliged, sitting on a box and whipping his hand against his pants to get his own saliva off.

“Show me the money first,” Marcie said.

“Yeah yeah. Damn it, woman, you don't trust me?”

He didn't wait for an answer, shoving his hand into a little bag that hung from his pants and taking four tokens out as promised. “Here. Happy?”

Marcie didn't answer. She unbuttoned her shirt and, freeing one of her huge breasts from the old bra, let the baby nurse. Junkrat looked around at all the food and oddities as the noises of the baby suckling filled the room.

“Lucky bastard,” he laughed.

“It's a girl,” Marcie said after checking under the dirty fabric the baby was wrapped with. “Are you going to keep her?”

“I always wanted a sidekick!” Junkrat beamed before he hummed, tapping his pointy chin thoughtfully. “But I don't know. I could sell ‘er to the suits like you did with yours! I'm sure there's a lot of infertile rich bastards out there!” Jamison tilted his head as he kept bouncing his good leg. “How much do you think they'd give me for her?”

Marcie looked down at the baby she was holding, paying attention to how much she weighed on her arms and how her little nose crooked. “She's just born and underweight, her nose is broken, and she is uglier than being kicked on the balls.”

Jamison saw red for a minute, jumping to his feet quite gracefully for someone with a peg leg.

“Watch your fuckin’ food-hole, cunt!” He exclaimed. “It's me mutant baby sidekick you're talkin’ about!”

“Whatever, she is still not worth a penny.”

“That's a good name. Penny!” Junkrat took the baby from Marcie once she was done eating and was too full and tired to continue with her deafening screeches, holding her up at eye level. “Penny the mutant, I could just call her PM!”

Marcie fixed her shirt and took her tokens. “Get out of here, go to your room or go do whatever you have planned to do with it-”

“Her name is Penny, not it!”

“I don't care. I don't want to see you or that ugly baby unless you have money to pay for more milk.”

“I will! This little mutant will need a lot of titty milk to grow strong and be able to carry me bombs!”

With a big grin pulling at the corners of his lips and a Hyena-like laughter, Junkrat headed to his room.

“This is the best!” He squealed. “Always wanted a sidekick!”

As he sat on the bed, trying to clean Penny with the curtains because fuck those ugly plane designs on them, Jamison thought that he'd made the right decision. Penny would grow strong, become a good sidekick and…

...And the ugly little bastard took a shit on Jamison's pants before falling asleep.

“Oh mate, you're disgusting! What's wrong with you?!” He whined, leaving the baby on the bed and trying to wipe her accident off his pants with the curtains. “You're gonna make me throw up!”


	2. Unpredictable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat is unpredictable. Roadhog doesn't seem ready for what his partner has planned.

The plan hadn’t gone the way they expected.

At first, Junkrat blamed Roadhog and Roadhog blamed him back. But on their way back to the farm, Roadhog thought about it, and he had to admit that he had to give himself some —maybe a quarter— of credit for what happened. Roadhog had forgotten to remind Junkrat that they had to keep their names a secret along with their identities. Neither of them had remembered to make up fake names, and Roadhog had naively expected that Junkrat would have imagination and the capacity to improvise on something that didn’t include bombs. That was asking for too much from the skinnier junker.

Things could have gone worse though. At least they still had the money they were supposed to use as bait and now could spend it on whatever they wanted. Roadhog was already planning to spend his share on food. Not the cheap food from the Outback, real food, like vegetables, maybe even fish.

Once they got back to the farm, Roadhog expected Junkrat to attempt and argue some more, argument that Roadhog would use as background noise while working on his bike now that the sun was setting. But the former enforcer was surprised to realize that Junkrat had other plans, or at least that's what it looked like when Junkrat grabbed some stuff and left to go scraping alone, leaving it pretty clear that he would go _alone_ , but not giving any information about why he needed to go scraping or why he wanted to go alone.

But that was not exactly weird. Everyone needed some alone time, even Junkrat. The behavior that could be cataloged as weird started some days later, with Junkrat deciding to build a water filter and connecting it to all the faucets in Roadhog’s farm. Roadhog didn’t complain nor pick much attention to it, a water filter was good for the farm, it made the water come out with more pressure for some reason that could be answered as Junkrat’s ‘magic’ and even though it proved to not be clear enough to drink daily, it would not hurt them to shower or wash dishes with it. Although Roadhog had yet to see Junkrat shower.

The next weird thing Junkrat did started with Roadhog thinking Junkrat had finally lost the last fragment of his sanity and was destroying everything in the shed. So, of course, Roadhog had to go check that his partner wouldn’t blow up the place or his remaining limbs.

Out of politeness, and because Junkrat was unpredictable, Roadhog knocked on the door, which the skinnier junker opened, looking up at his bodyguard with a grin.

“G’day mate!” The blonde grinned up at him. “What do ya need?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m all left, Roadie!”

Rolling his eyes behind the mask at the stupid pun, Roadhog pushed into the shed while Junkrat laughed like a maniacal hyena. The former enforcer’s eyes widened when he realized that Junkrat had been _cleaning_ the shed. Junkrat had reached a new level of weird, and Roadhog started to suspect that the rat was doing it so he could get away with not paying him rent. But that hypothesis died when he turned around to face Junkrat, finding his partner holding the rent money for Roadhog to take.

“What are you doing?” Roadhog finally asked, taking the money before his big arms crossed over his broad chest.

  
“I’m payin’ the rent!” Junkrat said with obviousness as he rushed to a corner and started hanging a hammock.

Was Junkrat finally going to let Roadhog take his couch back to the house? If that was the case, Roadhog would have to burn that thing, it was probably a resort for fleas after having Junkrat sleep on it.

“What are you doing with the shed?” Roadhog clarified. Junkrat could be incredibly smart or incredibly stupid, there was no in between.

“Oh, I’m tydin’ up! Can’t a block tidy up his shed?”

“ _My_ shed,” Roadhog corrected.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I’m busy! I’m putting some order in here!” Junkrat made sure the hammock wouldn’t fall, testing it by lying down. “Wanted this place to look more like, you know, a home or somethin’.”

Roadhog wondered if Junkrat even knew what a home looked like. Because so far the bomber’s idea of a home seemed to be a hammock and kicking all his scrap to the parallel corner to where he hung the hammock.

Noticing the former enfoncer’s critical stance towards his redecorating, Junkrat frowned and was in front of him in a second. “You don't have to like it!” he said, one metallic finger pointing up at this mate. “I am the one sleepin’ here, and I pay rent. I could blow the damn wall off if I want!”

“No,” Roadhog stated, smacking Junkrat's hand away. “If you blow off a wall, I'm kicking you out.”

“You hurt me feelings!” Junkrat whined, pressing the hand he'd been pointing at Roadhog with to his bony chest like the dramatic prick he was. “It was just an example. I ain't blowing one of the walls, it gets cold as balls in here with four walls, it gives me chills to picture how cold it would get with just three.”

Rolling his eyes at his partner's rambling about the weather, Roadhog turned on his heel and headed towards the door. He'd already made sure the rat wasn't hurting himself or breaking anything, his job was done. Roadhog mentally patted himself on the back and went back inside his house, not planning to come out for any other of Junkrat's antics.

Little did Roadhog know that not checking on Junkrat that night like he usually did was the biggest mistake he would make to date. And he didn't even know about it until the next morning when he slept in because it was quiet. So quiet that he had two optioned: Junkrat was either gone or whatever viruses his not vaccinated ass carried had finally caught up to him and now Roadhog's shed would smell like shit because the rabid twink died.

The former proved to be the correct answer when Roadhog walked out of his house and felt a ball of paper scrunch under his boot. He picked it up, unfolding it and wincing at the horrible letter that he could tell was Junkrat's.

‘Left to pick somethin’ up. Will be back in three days.

Ps: I took some of our food.’

Ignoring the way Junkrat wrote his accent, Roadhog threw the piece of paper over his shoulder and rushed to the shed, as if expecting to find Rat there and be able to stop him from doing whatever his maniacal mind had planned. But Junkrat was nowhere to be found.

No Junkrat, no explosives, no rip tire. Junkrat and his belongings were gone along with supplies for a day, two if someone ate only once a day, three days considering how few Junkrat ate. It wasn't a lot of food, but that wasn't what angered Roadhog, the fact that Junkrat had left without him and hadn't even had the guts to tell him he was leaving and taking supplies, and knowing that Rat probably had been planning to leave to do whatever he had to do for a while was what made Roadhog's blood boil.

The hog was not going to be happy. Junkrat knew that they would probably have a hell of a fight once Junkrat went back to the farm.

Luckily, when Junkrat got back three days later, it was around 5 am and not when the crickets were awake yet. Junkrat grinned, everything was going just the way he had planned.

Looking down at the child that hadba pretty strong grip on his flesh hand, Junkrat smiled.

"You're gonna love me new mate, Pen-pen!" Rat assured. "He's like a human jungle gym!"

“Does he like kids?”

“How am I supposed to know? Do you see any kids ‘round here?”

Junkrat picked her up and rushed towards the shed, nudging the door open with his boot and putting her down inside, closing the door behind himself and helping the girl take off her backpack along with the pilot hat, goggles, and industrial gloves Junkrat made her wear to protect her from the multiple dangers of the outback without having to kill her childish curiosity and her ‘I touch everything I see' attitude.

“Penny, this is our new home!” Junkrat exclaimed, motioning around proudly.

“It smells in here.”

The pride in Junkrat's face died when he saw the child cover her nose after complaining. He huffed and pouted. “I've been sleepin’ in here, what did ya expect?”

“You'll get used to the smell,” he promised, dropping his rip tire by the door.

Penny giggled when she was picked up and sat on Junkrat's bony shoulders. It wasn't the most comfortable seat, but being so tall filled her with excitement.

“That hammock is yours, the couch is mine, the scrap is mine too, don't touch it. You can play in the are where there isn't scrap and-”

A door slammed shut and Junkrat knew he was fucked. Roadhog was awake, and he could hear him getting closer.

Penny made a startled noise when Junkrat suddenly dropped her on the couch.

“Stay here!” Was all that Junkrat said before rushing towards the door.

For someone so fat, Roadhog sure moved fast. Junkrat bolted out of the shed and closed the door, pressing his back against it and grinning up at his mate, who had been about to walk in.

“G’day mate!” Junkrat let out a nervous laugh. “Did you sleep well?”

No answer. Roadhog was looking down at him and even if he couldn't see his partner’s eyes, seeing his own reflection on the glass of the mask made Junkrat feel like Roadhog was staring at his soul and that the man could read his mind. That idea scared the shit out of Junkrat.

Usually, when Roadhog tried to push past him and into the shed, Junkrat would let him. It was Hog’s place after all, and it wasn't like Junkrat with his barely 155 pounds of weight could stop him. But this time when the former enforcer tried to push past him, Junkrat attempted to stop him.

After a pause that lasted the blink of an eye, Junkrat was sure Roadhog would barge in, crushing him in the process.

When Roadhog got in position to do just that, Junkrat spoke. “You can't go in like that, you're gonna scare her!”

Junkrat's shoulders sagged in relief because that was enough to stop Roadhog.

“ _Her_?” Roadhog asked, confusion turning into anger. “You brought someone with you?!”

With his hands pressed on Roadhog's biceps when the man tried to walk in again, Junkrat whined exasperatedly. “Stop it, mate, let me explain!”

His hands were smacked off Roadhog's chest and one thick finger was pointing at him. “You know I don't like strangers! And that doesn't change if this girl is your girlfriend or-”

“She ain't my girlfriend, you sick fuck! She's five!”

Once again, Roadhog's body language gave away he was confused. His mind probably trying to process what the hell he had just heard.

Junkrat left for three days with some of their supplies, not telling Roadhog where he had gone or what he was going to do, and came back with a fucking child.

Without giving Junkrat time to say anything that might have stopped him, Roadhog pushed the scrawny junker aside and walked in.

Roadhog thought Junkrat was hallucinating because there was no one in there. But the idea died when after scanning the shed, Roadhog found himself staring at two little brown eyes that had dirty blond hair falling over them. Whoever was behind the couch stared back for enough time to examine him and hid again when Junkrat pushed Roadhog and made him stumble forward, further into the shed.

“I told ya you were gonna scare her, you fat cunt!” Junkrat huffed, going behind the couch.

The skinny junker's face softened in a way Roadhog had never seen as he looked down at whoever was behind the couch. “Come on, ankle biter, let Roadie ava look at your pretty face!”

How long had it been since Roadhog had seen a child? Around two decades or more. Children in places like Junkertown were few and hidden, while outside in the Outback they were really hard to find, usually they could be found in places where the scrap was good, or so Roadhog had heard. He had never seen a child, some teenagers yes, but never anyone younger than sixteen. Finding someone that young was like finding a cryptid.

The reaction Roadhog had to seeing the child that couldn't be older than six coming out from behind the couch and standing in front of Junkrat could be compared to the reaction a religious fanatic would have when meeting a hostile Mothman. His hands started shaking, his vision disfigured and Roadhog felt suddenly dizzy, bile crawling to his throat, which shut down before Roadhog could even feel like gagging.

_Run_. His brain told him and boy, did Roadhog oblige. He was gone in a second, ripping the door off its hinges on his desperation to open it.

Junkrat stood there, dumbfounded by what he had just seen. Did he actually witness Roadhog, a seven feet tall mammoth of a man, run away from a child?

“Is he the boogeyman?”

“Wha-” Penny's voice snapped Junkrat back to reality and he huffed. “He's not the boogeyman, you galah!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galah: Silly.  
> Could have used Drongo, but didn't want to have Junkrat going around calling his child stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment as short or as long as your heart desires. I want to know what you think!


End file.
